


House Arrest

by Satirrian



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Connor is the Police, Connor rides a motorcycle, Human AU, M/M, Markus Hates the Police, Markus POV, Mutual Pining, Political Dissident Markus, dubious use of law enforcement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 23:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15521322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satirrian/pseuds/Satirrian
Summary: In his moderately short life, Markus Manfred’s been arrested for protests and marches about seventeen different times.Connor Stern, a detective in the DPD, accidentally becomes Markus’ probation officer.





	House Arrest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know how the police department works and at this point I'm too afraid to ask.
> 
> Someone created some amazing art of this story! Credit to tumblr user [artsyorangeykay](http://artsyorangeykay.tumblr.com/) for this amazing piece!
> 
> [check out the art at this link!](http://artsyorangeykay.tumblr.com/post/176590002454/satirewrites-wrote-a-markusconnor-oneshot-called)

Markus sat down on the plain wooden bench and leaned his elbows on his knees. He stared down at his black boots, lined with mud. It had been raining. Tommy, a large man, bald, with a black goatee, with two full sleeves of tattoos, laid on the other side of the cell, blackout drunk, like usual.

Markus was beginning to feel like more of a regular than Tommy, and that was saying something.  

The outer door clicked open and an officer strode into the small walkway in front of the holding cells. He stepped up to the white bars right in front of Markus, his dress shoes clacking on the floor, hands neatly clasped behind his back, and said, “Mr. Manfred. Good to see you again.”

Markus picked up his head. There he was. Officer Stern. He was very young, maybe even younger than Markus, though maybe he just had a little bit of a baby face. That’s what Markus loved about him. He looked sweet. He had the face of a 12-year-old and the body of a gymnast. He didn’t look like a cop. Markus hated cops.

“I can’t say I’m quite enjoying the circumstances,” Markus said, gesturing at the holding cell.

Officer Stern tilted his head. He never wore the typical police uniform. He always had some type of suit on, with a dark blue tie. Maybe that was why Markus didn’t hate him. Markus had never been arrested by someone wearing a nice suit.

“What was it _this_ time?” Officer Stern asked. His voice was fairly sweet, too. Soft.

“Skymart doesn’t let their employees sit,” Markus said.

“I don’t see how that’s your problem,” Officer Stern responded. “You don’t work there.”

“Skymart is the biggest multinational retail corporation in the world. Do you know how many hours an employee has to work to legally get any type of benefits? 40. Do you know how many hours they let their employees work? 39. And do you know how many chairs they let their employees use? Zero.”

Officer Stern raised his eyebrows. “So,” he began. “You did something about it.”

“I had to.”

The officer began to run down a list. “You staged a protest. A very effective protest, I might add. You managed to shut down every single hypermarket downtown, clog up three lanes of traffic, and— on top of it all— you _punched_ the superintendent.”

“In the face,” Markus said. His knuckles had the bruises to show for it.

Officer Stern shook his head. “Yes, in the face. There’s video proof.”

“Please tell me it went viral.”

“It’s all over Twitter,” he said. Officer Stern’s face had this sense of calm about it. The rest of him always seemed to be fidgeting, flexing, pacing. But his face was very serene. Emotionless, even. Markus had never seen him smile. “It’s trending.”

Markus stood up and walked towards the jail bars, grasping one with a hand, looking slightly down at Officer Stern. He was half a foot away, but the distance couldn’t have been more insurmountable. Truthfully, Markus did not care whether the video went viral— not really.

He was tired of waiting. “What’s the verdict, Officer?”

“You’re not going to get off very easy this time, Mr. Manfred. Superintendent Pena is pressing charges.”

Markus winced. “What kind of charges?”

“Attempted manslaughter.”

Markus spluttered, _“Attempted manslaughter?”_

“That won’t go through,” Officer Stern quickly reassured, unclasping his hands and fiddling with some keys he had in his pocket. “It’ll be knocked down to assault.”

“Oh, just a simple _assault,_ ” Markus mocked. “ _No big deal_.”

“I get the sense that you do not approve of our criminal justice system.”

 Markus snorted. “Was that a joke?”

A brief expression of hurt rippled the serenity of his face, but he evened it out again. “I understand that the police have a well-deserved negative reputation, but you are in our hands, now, Mr. Manfred. You must trust that justice will prevail.”

“Justice,” Markus repeated. “You still believe in that?”

“I have seen more than my fair share of humanity’s cruelty, Mr. Manfred. I have to.” The way Officer Stern’s warm eyes shone, Markus knew that he really did believe in it. He really did. Officer Stern had to be the only good cop in the world.

“That’s beautiful,” Markus heard himself say.

Officer Stern crossed his arms. “Are you being sarcastic again?”

“No.” Markus cleared his throat. “No, I really think that’s wonderful. I’ve never met a cop like you before.”

“Flattery will not make me release you any sooner.”

“Shit,” Markus said. “You saw through my brilliant plan.”

Officer Stern smirked, very faintly, “I am an expert at seeing through criminal behavior.”

Markus smiled, “That must be why they put you in charge of watching drunkards and peaceful protesters.”

The officer’s eyes flickered away, an almost imperceptible tell. “Obviously, the department truly knows where to put my talents.”

Markus wondered, for a moment, why such an unusual cop as Officer Stern was here. But he didn’t know anything about how cops ran things, so he dismissed it.

“For now, your bail is paid,” Officer Stern said, all business. “Court ordered you to be put under house arrest until your trial.”

“When’s my trial?”

“It hasn’t been set yet.”

“So, what you’re telling me,” Markus deadpanned, “is that I’m under house arrest for all of the foreseeable future. Is that right?”

“That is correct.”

Markus spun away, running a hand over his head. He sighed, closing his eyes. It could be worse, he reminded himself. “Well, I’ll get to spend a lot of time with dear old dad,” he muttered.

“You will also get to spend a lot of time with me.”

Markus slowly turned back to face Officer Stern. “ _You?_ ” he said, watching as the officer dusted off an imaginary piece of dirt on his suit jacket.

“Say hello to your probation officer,” Officer Stern said.

A multitude of feelings flashed through him, but the predominate one was a bubbly rush of giddiness. An excited smile bloomed on his face. “Hello there,” he said.

Officer Stern looked away from him, scratching his chin, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. Markus couldn’t believe it.

Did he just _blush?_

No, it couldn’t be. Markus was seeing things.

“My name is Detective Connor Stern,” he said to the ground. “If you will come with me, I will escort you to your place of residence.”

“Wait— _Detective?”_ Markus asked, something clicking into place. He had always assumed that Stern was a normal low-ranking officer.

“As I’ve said, I volunteered for this position. Normally, you would have an officer working with riot control, but there were extenuating circumstances.”

Markus realized that he was gaping and he shut his mouth. “What extenuating circumstances?”

“We can talk on the way. But give me a moment, please.” Detective Stern walked into an adjacent room that Markus could see through a glass partition. There was another officer in there. Stern gave him a brief nod and went out of view. When Markus could see him again, he had a black tote bag across his chest. He signaled to the other officer.

A loud click went off right next to Markus’ ear. Detective Stern re-entered the small hallway and shoved open the jail cell. Tommy twitched in his sleep. The detective motioned for him to leave.

Markus quickly strode out. “You’re not gonna cuff me?”

“Do I need to?” Detective Stern asked, raising an eyebrow.

The stupid part of Markus’ brain almost made him say, ‘That’s so hot.’

But Detective Stern wasn’t hot. He was a cop. “No,” Markus said, “I’ll be a good boy.”

The detective gave him a disparaging look.

He led Markus out into the precinct, passing through a wide atrium with blue tile, where a cubicle area could be seen to the left. Markus knew the layout of the station better than many people who actually worked there.

They were heading towards a side exit, leading to a parking garage, when an older man in a tan jacket over a yellow and blue Hawaiian shirt burst out of the cubicle area and marched towards Detective Stern. The detective entered a dead stop, and Markus nearly walked into him.

 “Connor!” the man yelled. He had long-ish grey hair and a scruffy grey beard. Markus guessed that he was around 50. “Good, you haven’t left yet. Hawkins just got back the forensics report. Check this out.” He shoved a tan folder into Detective Stern’s arms.

Detective Stern easily flipped it open, skimming the page with one swift look. “Toxicology test positive. That’s frustrating.” His expression did not change.

“This investigation is such a bitch,” the older man said, massaging his forehead.  

“We need to bring in the gardener.”

“It can’t be the gardener.”

“ _Someone_ was there, Lieutenant,” Detective Stern said, shutting the folder, “How else did superphosphate end up in his bloodstream?”

“ _Goblins—_ I don’t fucking know.”

Markus coughed into his hand.

Detective Stern glanced at him and widened his eyes. He handed back the folder. “Lieutenant, we can discuss this later. I’m taking over for Ramirez.”

“What?” the lieutenant snapped. “Why?”

“Because Officer Ramirez’s son had thrown up while at school and she needed someone to cover for her.”

“Stop being so fucking nice to people,” the lieutenant grumbled. “It’s not like they deserve it.”

“Hank, we’ve been over this,” Detective Stern said. “It’s good to be nice to people.”

Markus felt like he was stuck in the middle of a very private conversation. He wondered if he would be able to make a run for it. He could hijack a car and drive to Springfield. He had a friend there. He could hide out for a while.

“Mr. Manfred,” Detective Stern said, turning to him, “This is my superior officer and investigative partner, Lieutenant Anderson. Lt. Anderson, this is Markus Manfred.”

“The protester, I know.” Lt. Anderson held out his hand and Markus shook it, unsure of himself. Superior officer? Head honcho cop? The big boss?

“I have so much respect for you,” the lieutenant gushed.

Markus felt like his brain had short-circuited. “You _what?”_ he said, barely able to believe that his hearing still functioned.

“I watched that video of you punching Pena like twenty times. Bastard deserves much worse.”

Markus glanced incredulously between Lt. Anderson and Detective Stern. Stern, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed. Finally, Markus settled on smiling, “I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“That’s my man!” Lt. Anderson declared, clapping him on the shoulder. But he didn’t let go, and he dragged Markus forward until he could hiss into his ear. “Be nice to Connor, or I’ll snap your fucking neck before you even reach for a phone, you hear me?” He let go of Markus and took a step back, acting like nothing had happened.

Markus carefully controlled his expression. His original conclusion that Detective Stern was the weirdest cop in the world had been completely dashed in a single minute. No wonder they were partners.

Detective Stern gently touched his arm. “We should get going,” he said.

“Right,” Markus said, keeping the lieutenant within his sights. They went out through the side door, entering the lower level of the parking garage. Police cars spanned as far as Markus could see. It was terrifying.

“I’m sorry about him,” Detective Stern said, “He’d never do anything bad to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

The words felt so earnest that Markus desperately wanted to believe him. “Are you two close?” he asked.

“When I first came to Detroit, he really took me under his wing. We’re very good friends. I think we jointly own a dog.” Detective Stern led them right, towards the entrance and a series of police motorcycles.

“You think?” Markus said.

“Well, I take care of him. The dog, that is. But I also take care of the lieutenant. He has a very mean bark, but no bite.”

“The dog or Anderson?”

“The dog is Sumo and he’s the sweetest boy in the whole world,” Connor said.

The dumb part of Markus’ brain wanted to say, ‘But that’s you.’ “I’d love to meet him someday,” he said instead.

Detective Stern gave him the barest of smiles. “I might bring him for a visit. He loves car rides.”

Markus wanted to die. Why did this cop have so much power over him? He would do literally anything to make that smile reappear. He would stop causing public disturbances. He would get an actual job at an actual place instead of living at home and taking art commissions from strangers on the internet. He would stop torrenting movies. He’d actually buy music instead of ripping it.

“I’d love that,” Markus said. Just to make sure that the detective knew how much he loved it, he continued to say, “I need you to visit me often and entertain me—  there’s no other way I’m going to survive.”

“Are you sure you want your probation officer to visit you often?” Stern asked dubiously, stopping next to a motorcycle which stuck out like a black sheep amongst the perfectly identical white police motorcycles. It was black and silver, and looked just ancient enough to qualify as shabby without being vintage.

“Yes,” Markus said. “Absolutely.”

Detective Stern considered him, dark eyes thinking thoughts that Markus could not ordain. “I hope you don’t mind taking a motorcycle,” he said. “I can sign out a patrol car if it would make you feel more comfortable.”

Markus detested patrol cars. “Is this yours?”

Detective Stern nodded.

“I’m down. Let’s get going.”

“I’ll get you a helmet,” the detective said, snatching one from a motorcycle patrol car. The helmet was pure white. Stern’s was black, and it looked scratched like it had seen heavy use.

Detective Stern straddled the motorcycle. He flipped up the visor of his helmet and looked back at Markus. “Are you familiar with riding?”

Markus rolled his eyes to the sky. What a question. This detective was going to kill him. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before,” Markus said carefully.

“There are no seatbelts,” Stern lectured. “Don’t be shy about holding on to me. Your arms are the only things keeping you from flying off.”

“Noted,” Markus said, stepping onto the motorcycle. He tried to leave a small amount of space between them. He put his hands on Detective Stern’s shoulders.

Detective Stern flipped down his visor. “That’s not going to work, Mr. Manfred. You need to be flush with my back. Wrap your arms around my body and clasp your hands together.”

Markus gritted his teeth. He scooted up until he could feel the fabric of Detective Stern’s suit jacket pressed up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Stern’s stomach and grabbed his wrist with his right hand. He felt every breath that Stern made. He rested his chin on Stern’s shoulder. Markus’ arms fit so easily around him. Markus felt like he was made to hug Detective Stern like this all the time.

The motorcycle started up with a roar. Stern expertly maneuvered the bike around, speeding towards the garage exit. Markus felt the wind catch his jacket and it fluttered out behind him.

Outside, the sky was a grey field of granite, low to the ground. It had stopped raining, though it looked like it could start up again at any moment. Markus held on and tried to enjoy his last moments of freedom, outside his father’s house.

It ended too soon. They pulled onto his street, and Detective Stern rolled up to the side of the road, Carl Manfred’s mansion overshadowing them. Markus did not want to let go, but he did. He stood up and took off his borrowed helmet, watching as Stern did the same. He balanced the helmets on the motorcycle seat.

“Lead the way, Mr. Manfred.”

“Markus.”

Detective Stern met his eyes. “Markus,” he said. Markus loved when he said his name. It felt important, like a clue to a puzzle. “Lead the way.”

Markus walked up the path to his front door and unlocked it. The foyer was dark, and he turned on the lights. Carl and Michael, his caretaker, must be out. He wondered if the canaries had been fed.

Detective Stern shut the door behind him, and Markus never expected such a simple action to make him feel trapped, but he did. That was the end. The outside was barred for him. He didn’t know when he’d be able to leave again.

Stern dug around in his tote bag and pulled out the dreaded ankle monitor. He input some type of code, and it clicked open. “May I see your ankle, please, Markus?”

Markus didn’t have the heart to turn it into some type of innuendo. He untied his boots and carefully placed them by the door. Detective Stern walked forward and crouched down on the ground. He rolled up Markus’ jeans, and mechanically clamped the bracelet to Markus’ left leg.

Markus stood very still, feeling the anger try to seep to the surface. Police. He hated the police.

Detective Stern stood up and dusted off his hands. His face was so sweet— his eyes were so warm, like melted butter. Markus couldn’t hate him. He tried to hate him, but he couldn’t. He wished that he could hate him.

“I guess we won’t be going on any more rides together, Detective,” Markus said, a black hole eating through his stomach.

“If I can call you Markus, then you can call me Connor,” he said. “And we might get another chance sooner than you may think. This is just until your trial, remember. Keep in contact with your lawyer. I promise everything will be okay.”

Markus chuckled darkly, “Easy for you to say.”

“I mean it. I’ll stop by tomorrow to see how you’re doing. Keep in mind that your outgoing communications will be mildly monitored.” Connor pulled out his cell phone. “Here, have my personal number. If you need to talk to me at any time, I’ll be there, though, of course, this job is secondary to my investigations with Homicide.”

Markus imagined, for a hazy moment, that Connor was just a cute barista working at a coffee shop, and that Markus had slowly won him over with carefully placed flirtatious lines until Connor had shyly written his phone number on a coffee cup.

But that wasn’t even remotely close to reality. He took out his own phone and recorded Connor’s number, putting a little police car emoji next to his name.

“Can I put my number in your phone?” Markus asked.

“I already have it,” Connor said, brow furrowed.

“But _I_ need to do it.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Don’t touch anything other than your contact. I will know.”

“Oh, you will?”

“Yes. I have an eidetic memory.”

Markus raised his eyebrows. He had not been expecting that. “That’s so cool,” he said. “Is that why you’re a high-ranking officer at such a young age?”

Connor’s eyebrow twitched. “I have this position because I’ve _earned_ it, just like everyone else.”

Markus felt like he’d struck a live wire. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s fine.”

Markus could tell that it was not fine. But Connor handed over his phone anyway. All of Connor’s contacts had a first and last name. It was professional. He wondered which of the contacts were Connor’s friends. He hoped that some of them were, at least.

Markus edited his name so it said ‘Markus <3’ and deleted his last name and replaced it with the chain emoji, which was the closest he got to handcuffs. He handed it back to Connor.

Connor looked at it with a furrowed brow. He pursed his lips.

“You’re not allowed to change it,” Markus said. “That’s texting law.”

“You’re making that up.”

Markus crossed his arms. “Me? Lie? The criminal?”

“You’re not a criminal,” Connor said.

“Tell that to the ankle monitor.”

“I will _not_ tell that to the ankle monitor.”

Markus snorted.

Connor sighed. He ran a hand through his neat black hair, pushing a few strands off his forehead. “Have a nice night.” He began to turn around.

“Wait—” Markus grabbed his shoulder, but clearly that was a mistake, because the next thing Markus knew, he was flat on his back, and Connor was backing away from him.

Markus coughed. “Ow.”

He thought he heard Connor say something, but it was too quiet to hear. He slowly pulled himself into an upright position, rubbing the back of his head. That was going to bruise.

Connor was nervously moving from foot to foot, hands clenching and unclenching.

“I’m sorry,” Markus said. “I shouldn’t have touched you when you weren’t expecting it.”

“No,” Connor said, but it came out as a soft wheeze. He cleared his throat. “I should be the one apologizing. Clearly, that was unwarranted. I’ll have a new probation officer assigned to you, and we never have to interact again.”

“No!” Markus yelled. Connor flinched. Markus cursed himself. He promised himself that he would never raise his voice in Connor’s presence ever again. He pushed himself to his feet. “I want you to be my probation officer. This doesn’t change anything.”

“It should.”

“It _doesn’t.”_

Connor pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Markus asked, desperately. “Coffee? I make very good coffee.”

“I should go.”

“Take one for the road, then.” Markus did not want Connor to leave. If Connor left, then Markus would not be able to follow. Markus could not allow that to happen.

Connor searched his face. “All right.”

“C’mon, let’s go to the kitchen.” Markus led the way into the living room, feeling the slight weight of the ankle monitor with every step. He watched as Connor craned his head around, taking in the fantastic decor. He realized that it would look very weird to someone who wasn’t used to it. “Carl’s a little bit of an eccentric,” he explained. Connor briefly met his eyes. “The giraffe’s not real. I think.”

“You think?”

“I’ve never asked,” Markus said, shrugging. He pushed open the sliding wooden door to the kitchen, clicking on the lights. He’d have to use the grinder— he didn’t think Michael would have left any coffee grounds from the morning. Besides, it would force Connor to stay with him longer. Always a plus. “You definitely want coffee, yeah?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “How did you know?”

“I can tell. You’re so jittery all the time. Definitely an addict.”

Markus saw Connor try to stand as still as possible, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m nothing like an addict,” he said.

“You crave that caffeine, my friend,” Markus said, waving a small brown bag of organically grown authentic Colombian coffee beans in his direction.

Connor lasted approximately three seconds before he unclasped his hands and moved them to his pockets. He looked like he didn’t know what to say.

“You work on murder cases?” Markus asked, just to say something. He filled the grinder with coffee beans.

Connor nodded. “I’m on the homicide task force.”

Markus shook his head, unable to stop himself from saying, “I can’t fucking believe it. Your work is literally light-years away from anything remotely dealing with me. But every single time I was arrested— it was _you_ who would open up the jail cell and let me out. Every single time.” He focused on the grinder, not wanting to look at Connor.

He turned it on, and even if Connor had wanted to say something, he couldn’t, because the kitchen filled with the sound of swiftly spinning blades. Markus counted the seconds before he needed to turn it off.

In the abrupt silence, Connor blurted out, “I was doing someone a favor.”

Markus glanced at him. He was leaning a hand on the kitchen island, a few feet away from him.

“That’s why I’m here now. Ramirez takes care of all your cases, officially. I just do some of the grunt work for her, when she’s sick or has some other emergency.”

“Which she happens to have every time that I’m arrested?” Markus couldn’t believe it.

“No. That would make no sense. I just—” Markus could see that he was uncomfortable. Connor’s eyes were glued to the floor. “I just liked checking up on you.”

Markus felt like his heart had broken through his chest and escaped without the rest of him. “You did?” he said, forgetting everything else he was doing.

Connor eyes flickered up to him before sliding away again. “I hope that doesn’t bother you. I can arrange a new probation officer—”

“No,” Markus said. “I mean it, I like having you here.”

Connor met his eyes, and Markus felt like he was drowning. Connor gave him the barest of smiles, “I liked making sure that you were okay.”

Markus felt an insane smile break out on his face. He tried to limit the amount of screaming going on in his head so that he could actually say something without scaring Connor away. “I knew there was a reason I never saw you out at protests.”

“You’ve probably met Ramirez before. She’s arrested you three times.”

Markus thought for a moment, and he figured he knew who Connor was talking about. “I’m glad you took over.”

“It was nothing, really.”

Markus turned back to the coffee grinder and removed the grounds. He pulled out the silver coffee percolator and put them in. He opened the fridge and took out some distilled water and filled the pot, turning on the heat.

“It should take about ten minutes,” Markus said.

“Oh.”

“Do you need to be somewhere?” he asked, hoping the answer was no.

“No,” Connor said. Markus mentally high-fived himself. “After I leave here, I’m done for the day. It’s unusual for me.”

Markus checked his watch. “It’s almost five.”

“I know. The Captain ordered me to take the rest of the day off.”

“Don’t people normally get off at five?” Markus wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like he’d ever had a normal job.

“Lt. Anderson says I’m a workaholic.”

“Ah,” Markus nodded sagely, “I knew you were an addict.”

“Can you stop saying that?” Connor sounded vaguely annoyed. “Narcotics works right next door and it makes me jumpy.”

Markus wanted to slam his head into a wall. “I’m sorry. That’s just how I joke around with my friends.”

Connor did a small shake of his head. “I apologize. I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

“It’s not a problem,” Markus rushed out, waving his hand. “I’m just a big insensitive asshole, sometimes.”

“I wouldn’t call you that,” Connor said.

“Yeah, but you’d think it.”

“I wouldn’t. The only thing I’ve ever thought about you was that you’re one of the most caring people I’ve ever met.”

Markus wondered if it would be too soon to ask Connor to marry him. Markus imagined the article on Buzzfeed, ‘GAY CRIMINAL MARRIES PROBATION OFFICER, GETS MARRIED WHILE UNDER HOUSE ARREST.’

“Thank you,” Markus said. “I don’t know if I’m entirely deserving of that title, though. I’m not that upstanding of a guy.”

“You are,” Connor pressed. “I’ve read all your letters to Congress.”

Markus wanted to bury his face in the dirt and move to Tanzania. He felt exposed, like Connor had just announced to the world that he’d read Markus’ diary and found his descriptions of the color of Connor’s eyes to be very moving. “Ah, you’ve read those?”

“They’re in your file.”

“What else does it say in my file?”

Connor crossed his arms, “I shouldn’t say.”

Markus began to worry about what it said in his file.

“Both Lt. Anderson and I think that you’re doing very important work. We hope that you get fully acquitted of charges.”

“Wait— you mean that the boss cop was serious back there?”

Connor nodded gravely. “Unfortunately, not many others in the force share our views.”

“Shocker,” Markus said.

The coffee percolator turned off. Markus dug around in the cabinets for a travel mug. He grabbed one of his favorites, one that never spilled. It was dark green. He carefully filled it with coffee.

“How do you take it?” Markus asked.

“Black.”

Markus wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

“Lt. Anderson frequently tells me that I have a gross sense of taste.”

Before Markus could process the sentence in his mind, he asked, “What other gross things you do like to eat?”

Connor stroked his chin. “Ant eggs. Sardines. Lemons.”

Markus thanked any deity that existed that Connor had such a pure mind. He also had a really gross sense of taste. Markus felt like he would have been disgusted if any other person on the planet had told him that. Instead, he felt smitten.

“That’s so gross,” he said, smiling dumbly.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Connor smirked. He walked forward and Markus handed him the travel mug after screwing on the cap. “Thank you, Markus. I will return this to you as soon as possible.”

“You better. That one’s my favorite.”

Connor mouthed, ‘Oh,’ quietly to himself. “Then I will definitely return it to you.”

Markus followed Connor as he walked back into the foyer. The ankle monitor was just slightly loose enough to annoy him. Markus did his best to ignore it.

Connor grabbed the front door handle and pulled it open, looking outside at an absolute downpour. Rain pummeled down into the streets. Wind tore at the trees and cable wires, pushing the rain into horizontal lines.

“You shouldn’t drive in that,” Markus said, half honestly worried about Connor and half only thinking about how this was an excellent opportunity to keep Connor here. “Especially on a motorcycle.”

“I’ve rode in worse,” Connor said.

“Let’s check the weather. Maybe it’ll pass.” Markus opened up his weather app, skimming through the next few hours. “Yeah, looks like it’ll stop in a few hours.”

Connor continued to gaze outside, lost in thought.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Markus asked.

Connor jerked his head towards him. “A movie?”

“You said you didn’t have any plans, so I figured.” Markus waved his hand vaguely.

“I’m not sure it would be appropriate,” Connor hedged.

“C’mon— it’ll be fine. Just say you were keeping an eye on me.”

Connor bit his lip, fiddling with his sleeve.

Markus’ eyes lit up. “Let’s watch Paul Blart Mall Cop.”

“All right, I’m leaving,” Connor said, stepping away.

“Or not!” Markus said. “We can watch a worse movie, I guess.”

“Worse how?” Connor asked, eyes narrowed.

“It can _not_ have Paul Blart in it.”

Connor let out a small startled laugh. Markus carefully memorized the sound. It was rough, like it was barely ever used. Markus wanted it to show up in his dreams.

“Okay,” Connor said. “I’ll stay a little longer. The lieutenant doesn’t like it when I drive in bad weather, anyways. Are you sure it’s all right if I stay?”

“It’s perfect,” Markus said. “Stay as long as you want.”

Connor smiled a little at him, and Markus knew that everything would turn out okay, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, this has been fun to write! I have more ideas for this universe but I have too many WIP at the moment to even consider making this a multi-chaptered series. 
> 
> I definitely want to do something with the Jericho squad, maybe something with Carl, and maybe a scene where these dumb idiots actually get into a legit relationship, but for now this is a complete, stand alone story. 
> 
> I've got a tumblr, come talk to me at [satirewrites](https://satirewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Hope you've enjoyed! Leave a comment/kudos if yes!


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